The Juniper Tree and Other Tales (7 page)

O
NCE UPON A TIME
there was a tailor who had three sons, and they owned a single goat whose milk had to feed them all. So the goat needed good fodder, and she was taken out to pasture every day. The sons took turns looking after her. One day the eldest son took her out to the churchyard where the best grass grew, and let her graze and run about there.

In the evening, when it was time to go home, he asked: “Goat, have you had enough to eat?”

And the goat replied:

“Come along home, then,” said the boy, and he took her halter, led her home and tied her up in the shed.

“Well,” said the old tailor, “did the goat have good grazing?”

“Oh yes,” said his son, “she said it was such a treat that she couldn’t eat another blade of grass.”

But the boy’s father wanted to make sure, so he went down to the shed, patted the animal and asked, “Goat, have you really had enough to eat?”

And the goat replied:

“What’s all this?” cried the tailor, and he ran into the house and said to his son, “Oh, you liar! You said the goat had good grazing, but you let her go hungry all day!” He was so angry that he took his yardstick off the wall where it was hanging and drove the boy out of the house with it.

Next day it was the second son’s turn. He found a good place by the garden hedge where grass and herbs grew, and the goat ate everything within her reach.

In the evening, when it was time to go home, he asked: “Goat, have you had enough to eat?”

And the goat replied:

“Come along home, then,” said the boy, and he took her back and tied her up in the shed.

“Well,” said the old tailor, “did the goat have good grazing?”

“Oh yes,” said his son, “she said it was such a treat she couldn’t eat another sprig of herbs.”

But the tailor didn’t trust his son, so he went down to the shed and asked, “Goat, have you really had enough to eat?”

And the goat replied:

“Oh, the wicked boy!” cried the tailor. “Letting such a good goat go hungry!” And he ran upstairs and drove the second son out of the house with his yardstick.

Now it was the third son’s turn. He wanted to be sure the goat was well fed, so he looked for the bushes with the juiciest leaves and let the goat graze on them.

In the evening, when it was time to go home, he asked: “Goat, have you had enough to eat?”

And the goat replied:

“Come along home, then,” said the boy, and he took her home and tied her up in the shed.

“Well,” said the old tailor, “did the goat have good grazing?”

“Oh yes,” said his son, “she said it was such a treat she couldn’t eat another leaf.”

But the boy’s father wanted to make sure, so he went down to the shed, patted the animal and asked, “Goat, have you really had enough to eat?”

And the goat replied:

“Oh, what liars they are!” cried the tailor. “Each of those boys is as wicked and undutiful as the next! Well, you don’t fool me any longer!” And beside himself with rage, he jumped up and beat the poor boy with his yardstick so hard that the lad ran out of the house and away.

So now the old tailor was alone with his goat. Next day he went down to the shed, patted the animal and
said, “Come along, good little goat, I’m going to take you out to pasture myself.”

Leading her by the halter, he took her out to pasture where green hedges and yarrow grew, along with other plants that goats like to eat. “There, you can eat your fill for once,” he told her, and he let her graze until evening. Then he asked: “Goat, have you had enough to eat?”

And the goat replied:

“Come along home, then,” said the tailor, and he took her home and tied her up in the shed. As he was leaving, he turned around and said, “Well, at least you’ve had enough to eat this time!”

But the goat wasn’t letting him off any more lightly than his sons, and she replied:

When the tailor heard that, he was taken aback, and he saw that he had driven his three sons away for no good
reason. “Just you wait, you ungrateful creature!” he cried. “Chasing you away isn’t punishment enough. I’ll teach you not to show your face among honest tailors again!” And he ran upstairs, fetched his razor, soaped the goat’s head and shaved it as smooth as the flat of his hand. Then, thinking his yardstick too good for her, he picked up a whip and lashed her until she ran away.

Now that the tailor was left all alone in his house he felt very sad, and he wished his sons were home again, but no one knew where they had gone. As it happened, the eldest son had apprenticed himself to a joiner. He soon learnt the trade and worked hard, and when it was time for him to go on his travels as a journeyman his master gave him a little table. It didn’t look anything special, and it was made of ordinary wood—but it had one remarkable quality. If you put it down on the ground and said, “Little table, lay yourself!” the good little table was suddenly covered with a clean tablecloth, and on the cloth stood a plate with a knife and fork beside it, and as many dishes as there was room for. They were full of braised and roast meat, and there was a big glass of bright red wine to drink with your dinner and cheer your heart.

Well, thought the young journeyman, this table will provide for me all my life! So he travelled cheerfully around, and he never had to wonder whether an inn was good or bad, or whether he could even get a meal there at all. If he didn’t feel like it he needn’t even go indoors,
since he could just take his little table off his back out in the fields or the woods or in a meadow, anywhere he liked, put it down on the ground and say, “Little table, lay yourself.” And next moment it was laden with everything his heart could desire.

After a while he decided to go back to his father, whose anger must have died down by now, and who would surely be glad to see him and his wonderful table. It so happened that one evening, on his way home, he went into an inn full of other guests. They welcomed him and invited him to share their meal, saying he’d have difficulty in getting anything to eat otherwise.

“No, no,” replied the joiner, “I won’t deprive you of any of your supper. Indeed, you must all be my guests instead!”

They laughed, thinking he was joking. But he put his little wooden table down in the middle of the room and said, “Little table, lay yourself!” At once it was covered with food much better than anything the landlord of the inn could serve, and a most delicious smell rose to the guests’ nostrils.

“Help yourselves, good friends,” said the joiner, and when the guests saw that he meant it they didn’t wait to be asked twice but pulled up their chairs, took out their knives and ate a hearty meal. What surprised them most of all was to see that as soon as a dish was empty a full one appeared in its place, entirely of its own accord.

Now the landlord of the inn was standing in a corner, watching all this. He hardly knew what to say, but he thought to himself: I could do with a cook like that here!

The joiner and the rest of the company made merry until late into the night, when at last they lay down to sleep. The young journeyman put his little wishing table beside the wall when he went to bed. But the landlord’s thoughts wouldn’t let him rest, and he remembered that he had an old table which looked just like the joiner’s in his lumber room—so very quietly he carried it in, and exchanged it for the wishing table.

Next morning the joiner paid for his night’s rest, picked up his table, never dreaming that he might have the wrong one, and went on his way. At midday he came to his father’s house, and the tailor was delighted to see him.

“Well, my dear son, what have you learnt?” his father asked.

“I’m a joiner now, dear Father.”

“That’s a good trade,” replied the old man. “And what have you brought home from your travels?”

“The best thing I’ve brought home, dear Father, is this little table.”

The tailor looked at it from all sides and said, “Well, that’s no masterpiece! It’s just an old table, and badly made at that.”

“Ah, but it’s a wishing table,” replied his son. “If I put it down and tell it to lay itself, it’s immediately covered
with the most wonderful food, and wine to cheer your heart. So invite all our friends and relations to come and eat and drink their fill, because this table will provide for them all.”

When the company arrived, he put his little table down in the middle of the room and said, “Little table, lay yourself.” But the table didn’t do anything at all, and stood there as empty as any other table that doesn’t understand human language. At that the poor journeyman realised that his own table had been stolen, and he felt ashamed because now he looked like a liar. As for his relations, they laughed heartily, but they had to go home again without any food or drink. His father picked up his needle and his cloth and went on with his tailoring, and the son went to work for a master joiner living near by.

The second son had apprenticed himself to a miller, and when his apprenticeship was over his master said, “You’ve done well, so I’m giving you a very special donkey. But mind, he doesn’t pull a cart, and he doesn’t carry sacks.”

“Then what use is he?” asked the young journeyman miller.

“He spits gold, that’s what,” replied the miller. “If you stand him on a cloth and say, ‘Bricklebrit’, then this good little donkey will shed gold pieces at both ends, from his mouth and his behind.”

“Well, what a fine donkey he is!” said the journeyman, and he thanked his master and went out into the world. When he needed gold, he had only to say “Bricklebrit” to his donkey, and there was a shower of gold pieces. All he had to do was bend down and pick them up. Wherever he went on his travels nothing but the best was good enough for him, and the more expensive the better, because his purse was always full.

When he had been around the world for a while, he thought: It’s time to go home and see my father—and if I bring the donkey who spits gold with me, he’ll forget his anger and welcome me kindly.

Now it so happened that he stopped at the very same inn where the landlord had cheated his brother out of the little wishing table. He was leading his donkey, and the landlord was going to take the animal from him and tie it up, but the young journeyman miller said, “Don’t trouble yourself. I’ll take my grey friend here to the stable and tie him up myself. I have to know just where he is.”

Well, this seemed strange to the landlord, and he thought that a man who had to look after his own donkey wouldn’t have much money to spend. But when, to his amazement, the stranger put his hand in his pocket, brought out two gold pieces and told him to get something good for his supper, the landlord hurried off to find the very best that money could buy.

After supper his guest asked what he owed, and the landlord decided to charge double the proper price and demanded two more gold pieces. The journeyman put his hand in his pocket, but he had run out of gold.

“Wait a minute, landlord,” said he. “I’ll just go and get some more money.” And he took the tablecloth with him. The landlord had no idea what that might be for, but he felt curious, so he followed in secret, and when his guest bolted the stable door he peered through a knothole in the wood. The stranger spread out the cloth under the donkey’s hooves, said, “Bricklebrit”, and at once a shower of gold came out of the animal at both ends. Gold pieces fairly rained down on the ground.

“My word!” said the landlord. “That’s a good way of coining money! I wouldn’t mind a purse of gold like this donkey!”

The guest paid what he owed and lay down to sleep, but during the night the landlord went down to the stable, led away the donkey that could spit gold pieces and tied up another donkey in its place.

Early next morning the journeyman miller set off with the animal, thinking it was still his own donkey, the one that could spit gold. At midday he reached his father’s house. The tailor was delighted to see him again, and welcomed him in.

“So what’s become of you, my son?” asked the old tailor.

“I’m a miller now, dear father,” said the young man.

“And what have you brought back from your travels?”

“Only a donkey.”

“There are more than enough donkeys around here,” said his father. “I’d rather have had a good goat.”

“Ah,” said the son, “but this is no ordinary donkey. He’s a gold-donkey—when I say ‘Bricklebrit’, that good little animal will shed enough gold pieces to cover a whole cloth. Just ask our relations to come and visit us, and I’ll make them all rich.”

“I like the sound of that,” said the tailor. “Then I can put my needle and thread away and stop work!” And he himself hurried around inviting their relations to visit. As soon as they had all assembled the miller told them to stand back, and then he spread out his cloth and led the donkey into the room.